Blood of Vengeance
by ZeroAxis81
Summary: The Adventures of Vincente de Morieve. Here is an excerpt of an incident I imagined happened between Vincente and his peers. Imagine the events that led up to this as well as what occurs afterward
1. Chapter 1

As Artemedia walked upstairs to have a drink and collect her thoughts, Vicente took notice of the smell that her and Kyn had been so focused on. The smell of ocean water and rancid body odor. It was upstairs. Rather than follow Art, Vicente calmly walked past the other coven members near the dais and made his way up the opposite set of stairs.

He heard her footsteps as she made her way to the central balcony. Moments later, he heard the door open and then close. His pace quickened, though never broke into a full run. He always tended to hold his composure even when threats were imminent. As he approached the door, Vicente heard yelling coming from the balcony. The words were unmistakable. "For Lord de Morieve!"

He heard the sound of steel clanging as a bow let loose an arrow. Vicente swung the door open to find Art fighting a mysterious, female Orc. It appeared that Art already had the advantage, despite having an obvious gash on her leg. Vicente drew his swords and began to circle the assassin with Art. The assassin,who immediately recognized her disadvantage, ran back through the door and into the hall.

In a blinding flash, the Orc was hurled into tables and chairs, near the dais' overlook. Vicente's movements shifted back to a calm, collected walk. He approached the stunned Orc and gripped her by her arm, pulling her up to face him. He landed a hard punch to her gut, knocking the wind out of her and then effortlessly tossed her over the side of the balcony. With a loud thud, she landed at the feet of Fadorian who looked slightly puzzled, if not partly amused by the sight of an Orc falling from the sky. Vicente leapt from the balcony, landing next to the injured Orc with a fierce look on his face.

The other coven members began to gather towards the source of the commotion. Vicente calmly stated "Lady Art has been attacked. Please ensure that she is alright." Kylulex nodded and moved quickly to tend to the injured Bosmer. Vicente turned towards the Orc laying at his feet with a grim expression. "I have questions.. and you will answer them. Now."

"I will tell you nothing, de Morieve! Or shall I say.. La Rouche?" She hissed.

Vicente glared at the Orc in deep thought. "I see he has informed you of many things. No matter."

"Why you bother using HIS name is the the real question, Vicente. Why don't you tell your little family?" The Orc was becoming indignant.

Vicente smiled, then gripped the Orc by her hair lifting her head several feet above the ground. "I use his name as a reminder of the hatred that I have carried for over 1000 years." As the last word left his mouth, he brought her face crashing into the floor with an awful crack. "A hatred you are going to witness first hand, bitch."

The Orc cried out as her face made impact with the cold, dank floor. Several of her teeth lay on the ground in a pool of blood. "I will tell you nothing!"

"If you need any assistance, please let me know" added Fadorian. He was clearly enraged over the attempt made on Art's life.

"That goes for you, as well, you filthy cat! You S'wits are nothing to me!" the Orc screamed at Fadorian.

Vicente swung the Orc around by her arm, dislocating her shoulder with an awful pop, landing her on her knees facing Fadorian. He held her there, sobbing, as if she were an offering to the large Khajiit.

With little effort, Fadorian landed a strong punch to the Orc's face, causing both her and Vicente to fall back a bit. Blood sprayed from her mouth from the trauma of the impact. More teeth fell to the floor.

Vicente's voice became very low as he whispered "Tell me, cur, where is Verick?"

"He..is.. Everywhere. You should know that.." The Orc was struggling to hide the pain as blood streamed from her mouth.

"That was not helpful, so let me ask rephrase the question." Vicente drew a dagger from its sheath and plunged it into her shoulder, twisting it around.

The Orc shrieked in pain. "Firsthold! He is in Firsthold you bastard!"

"I see.. And why does he want the stones? Why is he attacking the coven?" Vicente pushed harder on the dagger.

"Isn't it obvious!? He wants what is his! His bastard son... He wants you back! And this pathetic coven.. Your new.. Family.. They will be the price of your return.." Her sentences were now becoming broken as she fought through the torture.

Vicente stood up with a look of concern. He looked at Fad, then reached down and gripped the Orc's hair. Slowly, he lifted her from the ground and turned her to face him. "You are doing quite well for yourself, now. Please, your continued cooperation will spare you from seeing my uncaring side. Why does he want the stones?"

Whispers were heard in the crowd.  
"If this is his caring side, I'd really hate to see his uncaring side."

The Orc spit blood in Vicente's face and she struggled to smirk.

Another loud crack was heard as Vicente's knee landed in her gut, clearly breaking her ribs. With a blinding speed, she was swung around and crashed into the wall near the stairs. Vicente walked towards her and asked again. "Why does he want the stones?" He wiped the blood from his face and mockingly licked it off of his hand. She remained silent. An awful splinter was heard as he punted her in the side, rolling her down the stairs to the base of the dais.

She began to cry tears of rage. "Stones, no. He wants THE.. stone. He is.. going to.. destroy you all. Everyone.. Except for you. He has special... plans for... you, LaRouche." She started to chuckle as blood ran from her mouth, even as her lungs were collapsing.

Vicente slowly made his way down to the injured Orc. He gripped her hair and pulled her to her feet to meet his icy stare. "That wasn't so hard now was it? I want to thank you for your cooperation." His left hand moved to grip her arm. He began to chant, quietly.

The shrieks of pain were almost inhuman. Her entire body pulsed in a dark red aura as the chanting continued. Vicente grinned, wickedly. Blood began to run from her eyes, as the aura burned brighter. The crowd began to move back, as if anticipating something awful was about to happen.

The aura suddenly vanished and her body exploded, throwing blood and entrails all around the hall. There were gasps, as well as some faint cheers heard from the onlookers. Vicente, soaked in blood, casually turned to face Fadorian and Art, who had now rejoined the group.

"We need to find Rothmund. Now. We are in grave danger, and the Grand Maw Stone is our best chance at beating Verick." He kneeled and casually reached into each of the blood soaked pockets of the Orc's breaches. After a quick search, he withdrew a missive and read it to himself.

"This contract is for the head of Fadorian, Artemedia, or Augur. Payment on delivery to Outlook Inn." He threw the paper into the pool of blood and intestines scattered below him.

Artemedia began to question the situation. "Isn't it odd that Verick would send such a second rate assassin for the heads of key members? This looks like a trap."

"Agreed, but at this point we do know that Verick is, in fact, in Firsthold. We need more information." Vicente was showing agitation in his voice. "We need to move faster. Much, much faster."

Art and Fad began discussing how to contact Rothmund as Kyn entered the hall. He was covered in blood, despite not being present for the execution of the Orc.

"Well, this looks like a familiar scene.. Though.. I shall not be cleaning the mess up for you, this time. You and your damned Blood Magic. As you can see, I made it rain blood in Eldenroot, as well. I won't be welcomed back for some time. Vicente.. I believe he is gathering an army to him. The dead are rising and follow Vericks subordinates. Not to mention these damn assassins and the bandits that are already in his service."

"Kyn, I suspect the same.. We need to go to Firsthold. Now."


	2. Chapter 2

The tavern was loud and crowded with its usual patrons, as well as the typical drunkards of Skywatch. The barkeep struggled to fill demands, as well as mugs, as laughter and shouting echoed in the fire lit hall. A group of four sat at the table nearest the fire, all with a look of nefarious purpose.

"We cannot forget that our 'priority' is to ensure that the threat of his presence, as well as any other fiend, is kept in check. While I do agree that the contracts keep the coins in our purses and the mead in our mugs, we must always act as the silent protectors of this world. We all took a vow to this."

Corvutis was a short, muscular Imperial with a very rugged face. His impressive collection of scars showed his years of fierce, frontline fighting. As he finished speaking, he signaled the barkeep for another mug of mead and sat back down in his chair.

"This one agrees with the potato(a pet name for Corvutis that J'zhar often used). J'zhar likes the mead, and the ladies, as much as the next cat-but this one will not forget what he has sworn to do. Even if it means that he could be killed in the process, however unlikely that would be.

J'zhar was a tall, lanky Khajiit with dark, grey striped fur and glistening orange eyes. He was adorned in dark leather armor with a formidable collection of daggers affixed to his belt.

Galaes stood from his chair in protest.

"We did not swear ourselves to suicide, cat. We swore to protect the people of Tamriel. We swore to keep the fiends of this world at bay. We did NOT swear to walk willingly into the clutches of a powerful Ancient with a chip on his shoulder. You and you 'friends' have poked that hornet nest enough as is."

Galaes was a roguish Dunmer, rugged as well as handsome. He was tall and fit, with a piercing stare from his nearly black eyes. A wicked, barbed blade was sheathed at his side as he stood to argue with the khajiit.

J'zhar shot an annoyed look towards Galaes as he let his tongue roll out, slowly.

"This one is a Khajiit, yes, but the Dunmer seems more pussy than he, no?" As he finished his sentence he laughed heartily, dodging the mug Galaes lobbed at him. Even Corvutis could not contain his amusement as he cracked a smile.

"Enough! All of you! This is not a laughing matter."

Even as she spoke her protest of the humor, Sonel was trying to stifle a giggle. She was a very tall, slender Altmer with a dark, golden skin tone. She collected herself and continued.

"We all have varied interpretations as to what our role is. Truth be told, we have become involved in so many things that it has become difficult to keep track of what we are doing on a daily basis. Still, I must agree with Galaes. As entertaining as you are, J'zhar, you are still mistaken."

The Altmer leaned on her staff as she cast a look of support towards her Dunmer companion.

Corvutis stood back up from his chair wearing an expression of concern. He glanced at J'zhar, then the elves.

"Then we do nothing, for now. Our code dictates that a majority chooses our path."

He sat back down and took a swig of the fresh mug of mead the barkeep brought over.

"Unless, of course, you would like to add your personal take on the matter, Vicente."

Corvutis looked behind him as a Breton, shrouded in a dark hood leaned against the wall. His eyes were red and unearthly.

"As much as I have involved myself in the matter of a certain Ancient, I cannot, within good conscience, consent to having this syndicate become anymore involved than it already is. I vote against The Bleeding Dawn taking action against Verick directly. While I appreciate your desire to help, this matter is mine to resolve."

Vicente shifted his gaze from person to person, ending with J'zhar.

"Ancano has already introduced himself to the coven. Undoubtedly, he knows that Kyn is slowly dying in their sanctuary, despite their best efforts. Anaril has yet to show herself and, when she does, you can be assured that it will be a more violent introduction than her brother's."

Galaes scoffed as Vicente mentioned Kyn. Once Vicente had finished speaking, he responded in a cold fashion.

"That lizard is worthless. He has caused us far more trouble than good. Why you even..."

Vicente promptly cut him off, his voice sharp and his eyes burning red. "Galaes, kindly watch your tongue or I will rip it from your mouth. Kyn is one of my best operatives. He has done much to aid us, as well as the coven. I would weigh his 'worth' against yours on any occasion."

Corvutis stood, slamming his mug on the table and splashing mead on J'zhar who sprung up in bewilderment.

"Enough, both of you! The matter has been decided. We do nothing more than we have been. Vicente, Verick is yours. His feral followers will be our closest tie to this story."

Vicente turned his attention to the Condottieri in acknowledgement. His words were foreboding.

"Make no mistake, all of you. You are still targets for Verick and his allies. Staying out of direct conflict is a wise decision BUT do not lower your guard."

Sonel leaned back on her staff, meeting Vicente's eyes.

"We are not children, vampire. We are more than capable of handling ourselves. It's you who should be more careful. You have faced him twice, now. And twice you have failed."

Vicente started for the door without any further comment. His robes flowed in the musty draft of the tavern. As he reached the door, he turned towards Corvutis with a grim expression then exited into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

J'zhar was sitting at a table in his hut, whittling a piece of wood into a decorative ornament. The precision of his knife work was second to none, even in the arts. A sudden knock on the door broke his concentration as he cut too big a piece from the wood.

"Damn it! This one can never have peace and quiet, even in his own home! Whose eyes does J'zhar have to scratch for this?!

He stumbled, still inebriated, from the table and made his way across the cluttered floor towards the door. A shaken voice called from outside.

"I have a letter for one, J'zhar-ra Tavaknai. I cannot say from whom.

J'zhar swung the door open, still upset about ruining his ornament. The courier looked a bit taken back about seeing the cluttered state of the khajiit's home.

"This one's maid is on holiday."

The khajiit smiled as he snatched the letter from the courier. The courier, having done his job, mounted his horse and made off to his next delivery.

J'zhar stood in the doorway, running his claw across the blood red wax seal on the parchment. The seal was shaped like a sun.

"Double damn it.. This one needs to retire."

* * *

A loud knock disrupted Vicente as he was studying an old daedric tome. He calmly closed the book and rose from his desk, walking towards the door of his library. The knock repeated as he neared the foyer, followed by a female's voice.

"Vicente de Morieve, I have a letter for you. Please open your door."

The voice was rattled and nervous as it made the demand. Vicente opened the door to find a frail Altmer Mage standing at the threshold. She looked absolutely terrified. Vicente reached out his hand, staring at the elf as he studied her face. The woman could not bare to look into his red eyes, instead looking to the ground as she turned over the parchment to the vampire.

"Do you realize how difficult it is for these people to reach you here? Why in the world would you choose to reside in Cold Harbor?"

The vampire smiled as he began to peel open the envelope. His response was cold, almost rude.

"Why wouldn't I? After all, I'm not much for visitors. I think Oblivion is really the best place for someone like myself to reside. People don't ask questions when other people go missing."

His fangs flashed through his smile as he finished the sentence.

The Mage nodded and quickly sprinted off into into the nearly empty city. Vicente removed the letter from the sealed envelope and turned back into his home. As he walked towards his study, the door swung closed and locked itself.

Vicente sat down at his desk and began to read the letter. Its contents were as follows:

"Make haste to the tavern in Firsthold. An urgent matter has arisen and we haven't much time to address it. We will meet on Fredas at sundown. Do not delay."

The letter was signed by Corvutis, Condottieri of The Bleeding Dawn.

Vicente crumpled the letter in his hand and tossed it to the floor in apathy. He began to mutter out loud to himself.

"What more could they possibly have to discuss? I am running short on time to resolve Kyn's declining condition. They will have to make do without me this one time."

The vampire picked the daedric tome back up and began to scour its pages for anything that could prove useful.

* * *

Sonel was leaning on her staff near the fire as the bustle of the tavern ramped up. Galaes approached from behind, stopping at her side.

"You are always the first one to arrive. How is that?"

Sonel gave a faint smile and responded mockingly.

"I'm a Mage, idiot. How do you think?"

Galaes returned a smile and spoke further.

"Any idea what this is about? The letter was marked as being urgent."

"Not a clue."

Sonel turned towards the door as it opened with a loud creak. Corvutis had arrived, along with J'zhar. They made their way to the fireplace to join the others.

Galaes greeted them with a wave and cleared his throat.

"So what is so urgent as to call a meeting so soon after the last? Your letter was far more cryptic than usual, Corvutis."

Corvutis looked confused and concerned at the same time.

"I was about to ask you the same. J'zhar and I both received letters from Vicente. What is this about? Where is Vicente?"

Galaes lowered his hand to the hilt of his sheathed sword as his eyes darted around the tavern.

"Are you saying you didn't summon us? My letter was signed by you, Corvutis. There is something suspicious at play here. On your guard, all of you."

The four stood near the fire, looking around the crowded tavern, hands close to their weapons.

Corvutis whispered to the others in a low grumble.

"We need to leave this place. Now."

The group slowly walked through the crowd so as not to draw attention. As they reached the middle of the tavern, a scream pierced through the commotion of laughter and bottles clanking. A blast of light sailed through the room, cutting through several patrons as it finally met the ward Sonel quickly cast.

"Ambush! Draw your weapons!"

Corvutis' voice could not contain the excitement that was coursing in his veins. He made his way through the fleeing crowd, sword drawn and glistening in the torch light. Galaes and Sonel were close behind. J'zhar had already vanished, climbing up the rafters to find a vantage point for a quick kill.

Burned bodies were strewn about the floor and some had been torn in half by the magical blast. Blood splatter was everywhere and the smell of burning flesh hung thick in the air. Screams echoed through the tavern as people raced to escape the massacre.  
Suddenly, another blast was heard near the door as a raging fire swirled around it, catching several more people on fire. Their screams of pain were beyond horrifying. The group, as well as the remaining inhabitants of the tavern, were now trapped.

Laughter began to echo in the tavern, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"So THIS is the Bleeding Dawn? You seem to be missing a member, but 4 shall do for now."

The voice was that of a male, mocking and condescending.

"Behold! This shall be the final setting of the sun. You will all die this night!"

A roar of magical energy erupted through the floor, sending Sonel into the air amidst the burnt splinters of wood and debris. She landed with a thud several feet from the group, breathing heavily in pain. Her body was badly burned. Galaes ran to her side as Corvutis braced himself to defend the two. A young, male Altmer levitated from the gaping hole in the floor, adorned in a black and red robe. His eyes were burning red as his silver hair was swept from them with a gloved hand.

"My master sends his regards, old man.

Corvutis, with a roar, charged the Altmer with unbridled rage. Just as he swung his sword back to deliver a mighty blow, a bolt of lightning struck him from behind sending him reeling into a table.

A callous giggle echoed among the screams as a burst of energy materialized into a young Altmer woman. She, too, had red eyes and silver hair.

"Best to watch your back, old man."

The woman walked slowly closer towards Galaes, who was frantically tending to Sonel's wounds. He drew his sword as he rose to his feet.

He let a faint smile cross his lips as he addressed the woman.

"Best to follow your own advice."

Suddenly, two knives erupted from the woman's chest as blood sprayed onto Galaes' face. She screamed in agony as Galaes turned to face the other vampire. J'zhar withdrew the daggers from her back as he thrust his foot against her back, sending her face first to the floor.

"Anaril! Noooo!"

The robed male screamed out as a burst of purple energy slammed into Galaes, sending him flying into J'zhar. The two landed on the floor with a loud crash.

"Damn.. It.. You will pay for this."

The robed man's hands lifted to cast another spell as the two struggled to stand up. Just as he had gathered the power he needed, a blade ripped through his gut from behind. He let out a howl of pain as he vanished, reappearing several feet away. He dropped to his knees in agony.

"Master. Help us, please."

J'zhar and Galaes collected themselves as Corvutis limped towards the vampire.

"You made a grave mistake this day. You saved us the trouble of hunting you down. For that I thank you."

Corvutis' words were labored as he tried to hide the pain of his broken ribs.

Another laugh filled the room as lightning bolts arced across the tavern. J'zhar dove under a table as a bolt of energy ripped Galaes apart, sending blood and entrails spraying everywhere. Corvutis held his ground, using his enchanted blade to block the spell.

"Show yourself, coward!"

Suddenly, Corvutis was grabbed by the throat from behind and lifted into the air.

"Consider myself..shown"

A man in a dark robe stood laughing as he held the Imperial in the air, slowly choking the life from him.

J'zhar slid across the floor, knives in hand as he made his way to Sonel. Quickly, he checked her pulse. He frowned and continued to sneak among the debris.

The man in the hood addressed the trapped patrons of the tavern who were cowering in the corners.

"Good evening! I am Verick de Morieve. You have already met my children, Ancano and Anaril Aundae, but now you have names for the faces. Ancano, my boy, please aid your sister. I'd rather not lose her this evening."

Corvutis choked and gasped for air as he began to lose consciousness. Verick's grip loosened and the man dropped to the floor, heaving as he struggled to breathe.

Ancano stooped over his sister, still holding a hand over his own wound. He reached out to grasp her shoulder just as J'zhar sprung from behind a table. A bolt of energy sailed from Verick's fingertips piercing through J'zhar's side, sending him floundering to the floor. Verick laughed and mocked J'zhar.

"Filthy cat, you could have been the one who prevented this. That day, in the collapsed cavern. Do you remember? Had you not been in such a hurry... What a pity."

J'zhar held his hand over the gaping hole in his side as he stood in defiance. Blood poured out at an alarming rate, as he fixed his stare on Verick. Ancano muttered a spell as he and his sister vanished into a portal. Verick stepped his foot down on Corvutis who was still on the floor, trying to breathe through his crushed larynx. His face was now blue as gurgles and choking sounds came frantically from his throat.

"The end is nigh, khajiit. You cannot stop me. No one can."

Verick laughed as as he evaporated into a cloud of mist that moved towards the ceiling. Without warning, a torrent of flames swept around the tavern, incinerating most of the trapped crowd. J'zhar winced in pain as he eyed a window to his right. Nimbly, he ran and jumped through the glass as the tavern suddenly exploded, raining smoldering debris across the night sky.

J'zhar struggled to stand as he began to limp towards the stable. Blood trailed behind him as his wound continued to pour out.


End file.
